Hunter Learns To Talk
by abandon.me297
Summary: All the infected try to make the Hunter talk... which will be the winner? Crack, OOC, Yaoi Hinting warning.
1. Jockey's Attempt

"So, I hear you like mudkips," the Jockey said, breaking the awkward silence.

"What the hell are mudkips?" asked the Spitter after a silent pause. The Jockey shrugged and turned around, hiding his embarrassed look.

"What the hell are mudkips? What the hell are we doing here? Shouldn't we be looking for survivors?!" the Smoker asked, looking at the dimly lit room they sat in. The Spitter shrugged.

"I'm guessing they won't be here 'till... tomorrow," she presumed.

"What makes you think that?" the Jockey questioned, returning to the group.

"Because, I saw them in the cemetery, there is only one safe house between here and there, and they sleep don't they?"

"Well... yeah..."

"Than they should be here tomorrow, let the others take care of them," the Spitter decided. A sobbing came from a corner of the room and the Spitter turned to look.

"Witch?" she asked. The Witch took her hands away from her face which held tears she cried and looked at her fellow infected.

"Y-yeah?" she whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Why do you always cry?" the Witch crossed her arms in her laps and continued to sob and weep, without answer. Spitter just shrugged and looked back at her group.

"She has her ways, we have our own," the Smoker said. The Spitter nodded in agreement.

"Hunter?" she asked. A zombie crouching in a corner looked in her direction. He could hardly see anything bevause the hood of his black sweater was shadowing everything.

"Why don't you ever talk?" The Hunter gave her a low growl in the form of a response and went back to staring outside of the boarded window which let light filter through cracks between boards.

"Well, someone's mad," the Jockey said, looking at the Hunter who ignored his gestures.

"He's always like that," the Smoker commented, surveying the infected in the corner.

"Do you think he knows how to talk?" the Charger asked. Everyone shrugged.

"We know the Tank doesn't know how to talk," gurgled the Boomer. The others nodded in agreement.

"Hey! Do you know what we should do!?" the Spitter asked excitedly.

"What?" Smoker asked.

"Teach Hunty how to talk!" the Hunter peered in their direction.

"Hunty?" Smoker asked, narrowing his eye. She nodded and looked at the Hunter.

"Hunter, say 'hello'," she said slowly.

"I don't think he's stupid," the Charger said, whipping the Spitter's skinny arm with his own limp one.

"How would you know, he never talks!" the Spitter said in defence. "And don't hit me with your arm!" she added.

"Would you rather have me hit you with this one?" asked the Charger who held up his other arm which was swollen, it had no wrist and just looked like a rectangle with fingers and a thumb.

"Okay, let me spit on it and shrink it down to my size," the Spitter shot back, crossing her arms. The charger narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to say something but the Smoker cut in.

"We're never going to get anywhere fighting, jeez," he said. The Spitter rolled her eyes and looked back at the Hunter.

"I just want to know what the Hunter sounds like," she said. The Hunter growled a little louder.

"Well, there you go," the Charger said.

"You know what I mean,"

"I do,"

The Spitter crossed her slender arms and choose to ignore the Charger. The Smoker stood up and walked over to the Hunter who looked up at him and growled.

"Hunter," he said. "Talk to me or..." the Hunter's mouth curled into a frown and he stopped growling.

"Or else... uhhh..." the Smoker said, trying to find a threat to persuade his friend into saying something. The Hunter smiled a cheeky smile, letting the Smoker know that he knew he couldn't come up with anything.

"He'll kiss you!" the Boomer said in a low voice. The Smoker turned around and his good eye twitched.

"Hell to god, like I'd do that," the Smoker said in disgust.

"Did you see his teeth!? They're pointy and all red because of the blood!" he exclaimed.

"Do you honestly believe there's a god after all this?" the Jockey asked, gesturing to the trashed quarter with unsteady zombies walking on clumsy feet.

"Well... not really,"

"And you're just jealous because the Hunter's attack is way better than yours," the Charger said in defence for the quiet special.

"Well, we'll just have to work on this," the Spitter encouraged.

**---xxxxx---**

"Okay, so we've kicked the Hunter out, now let's brainstorm," Spitter said to all the other specially infected humans.

"Okay... don't you think he can hear real well though?" Smoker asked looking at the door where the prowling zombie most likely lingered.

"Why do you say that?" Boomer questioned, joining the Smoker in staring at the old looking door.

"Well… he does scream around and shit… because he can't really see…," Smoker replied, looking at the obese infected.

"I don't think he can really hear all that well," the Charger input.

"Why not?" Smoker asked, feeling as if everyone were against him.

"Because," the Spitter said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "he's like a Bat, you know, he only screams around so much because he can't see, so he listens for sound bouncing off objects which tells him where everything is, duh,"

"Wow... and people say zombies are dumb..." Jockey said.

"We're not zombies, we're just diseased humans," Charger said stubbornly.

"Oh well, we _act_ like zombies," Jockey corrected himself. "Or... at least we _did_," he said accusingly, looking at Spitter through narrow eyes. There was a scratchy snicker heard from behind the door and everybody imagined the Hunter with his bloodied smile, sitting by the door, listening to their conversation.

"Hunter, go away!" Spitter yelled. There was a surprised and disappointed whimper and the image of the smiling Hunter turned into a frowning Hunter with a hurt look.

"Go," Spitter said strictly. "I swear to god, Hunter, if I open this door and you're still sitting there," the sound of quick feet running down stairs over ran the Spitter's ears and she sighed with relief.

"Okay," she said, turning back to her group.

"I have an idea!" the Jockey exclaimed.

"What is it?" Charger asked tiresomely, as if his idea would be a cheap one.

"I'm going to jump on his back, like a ninja, I'll jump on his back and scare him, he'll get scared and yell out in fear, or he'll get annoyed and yell at me to get off him,"

"That's... actually a good idea..." the Charger said in disbelief. The Jockey had a look on his face that said nothing but 'in your face'.

"Oh, be quiet," the Charger said irritably.

"I'm going to go try out my idea!" the Jockey said excitedly.

"Have we ever just thought about asking nicely?" the Witch asked quietly from the corner.

"Like that'd ever work," the Spitter said dumbly. "Well go try out your plan, Jockey!"

The Jockey nodded and stood up, he didn't gain much height. He fumbled with the door handle but it eventually opened.

"I'll be back," he said.

**---xxxxx---**

The Hunter quietly roamed the littered quarter, looking up at the parade float that the survivors would _have_ to start up, no doubt attracting allot of zombies. Not my problem, the Hunter thought. He felt the hot afternoon sun beating down on his back, his black, bloodied sweater soaking in all the heat and trapping it there like his sweater was a prison. He grumbled as he felt sweat beading on his back and his world start to spin. He just shook his head, ignoring the warning signs of a heat stroke. He was a zombie, what did he care?

"Peek-a-boo!" The Jockey said as he swiftly but quickly jumped on the Hunter's sweaty back. The Hunter screeched as he clawed at the Jockey's skinny wrists. He shrieked and screamed ear piercing noises but no words formed out of his mouth. The Hunter slammed his back against the rough bark of a tree and the Jockey yelled in pain as he fell to the ground.

"What the hell!?" he yelled, his leg twitching. The Hunter turned around to the irritated Jockey and his mouth curled into a smile. He snickered a rough snicker.

"MAN, NOT FUNNY!"

The Hunter stopped snickering and he frowned, his frown saying he was sorry. Jockey stood up and rubbed his back which had scratches on it form the bark of the tree.

"Jerk…" he muttered as he walked off.

**---xxxxx---**

**That was the Jockey's attempt. I'm just going to make everyone's attempts as different chapters, because the story will get too long if I don't. So the chapters will be rather short. n.n**

**Thanks for reading… =D**


	2. Smoker's Attempt

"Jockey fail," the Smoker teased with a smug smile as the Jockey told how his plan went.

"Be quiet, I don't see you doing anything!" the Jockey said irritably. The Spitter did a face palm.

"Why am I still hangin' around you guys?"

"Why _are _you still hangin' around us? No one wants you hear anyway…"

"Okay, who said that!?" the Spitter demanded. The room fell silent and everyone looked around uncomfortably, waiting for someone to save them and speak up, admitting to insulting the acid ridden infected.

"I have an idea…" the Smoker said quietly.

"Really!?" the Spitter asked with a wide smile.

Smoker nodded slowly, afraid that the Spitter might hug him to death.

"What is it?" the Jockey groaned as he picked at the bandages on his back.

"Well… I don't know if I'm really up to this… but if it stops the Spitter from spitting on us all…"

The Spitter rolled her eyes. "Just get on with it!"

"I'll… lick him…" the Smoker paused as he shuddered. "From afar… and make him ask me what I'm doing…. Or something like that…"

"Ummm… disturbing… but a good idea…" the Charger said.

"Can I come and watch you?" the Jockey asked.

The Smoker nodded and stood up.

"Let's get this over with…" he said as he opened the door and walked out.

"Have we ever thought about asking him nicely…?" the Witch whispered.

The Smoker paused and looked back at the Witch.

"Do you honestly think that'll work?" he asked.

The Witch shrugged and continued to cry.

"Exactly…" the Smoker dismissed as he continued to walk.

"Hold up!" the Jockey exclaimed. He ran to the door but fell backwards as his body made contact with the suddenly closed door.

"That jerk closed the door on me!"

"Oops…" they heard the Smoker snicker from behind the door.

The door opened and they watched as Smoker's tongue coiled back to him.

"Jerk…" the Jockey muttered as he walked through the door.

**---xxxxx---**

The Hunter growled as he felt his back begin to sweat more. He looked around for anyone other than the common infected. He paused… no one in sight. He took the zipper of his sweater and pulled it down, opening to front of his sweater and letting a cool breeze in. He growled softly, letting the breeze take down his body temperature. The Hunter laid down under the shade of the tree he had hurt the Jockey on and closed his eyes.

Moments passed and then he something slick and wet touching his hand. He blinked his eyes open and looked at it. A tongue? He yelped as he quickly jumped up and back. _What the hell?!_ He thought.

**---xxxxx---**

"I _ca'ot _bewieve I am 'oing this…" Smoker said in disgust as he felt the rough fabric of the Hunter's sweater, his speech slurred due to his tongue being out of his mouth.

"Oh gaw'…" he said as he felt the Hunter's skin. The Jockey giggled from behind the Smoker, watching the Hunter try to dodge the sleek tongue.

"Is… 'his his chest!? He asked in despair as he felt the sweaty, salty skin of the Hunter and hearing his loud yelp of surprise

"Yeah… you're licking his bare chest…" the Jockey informed him. "And… you made him yelp… heh, do you think he likes it?"

"Eeeeew!" The Smoker said, closing his eye. "Don't be so disgusting! And why is his sweater undone!?"

"Maybe it got a little hot in there for him…"

The Smoker suddenly couldn't move his tongue and he opened his eye.

"What…?" he asked as he saw the Hunter holding the tongue and looking at it curiously.

"What's he doing?" the Jockey asked.

**---xxxxx---**

"Smoker…" the Hunter whispered almost silently. He raised an eyebrow… holding the tongue in disgust. His eyes followed the tongue's length back to its source and saw it bend around a corner. He sighed and started pulling the tongue closer towards him, as if he was unwrapping it like a garden hose or extension cord.

**---xxxxx---**

"Whoa…" the Smoker said, stumbling forward.

"What's he doing now?" the Jockey asked, following close behind his friend.

"'Ulling on ma 'ongue…" The Smoker replied.

"Why?"

"I 'ON'T KNOW!"

The Smoker fumbled around the corner and saw the Hunter sitting there, holding his tongue above his head. The Smoker waved slowly to him and he beneath his eyes turn red.

"Hi… Hun'er…" he said quietly. The Hunter growled and the Smoker's eye widened. He squeezed his eye shut, preparing himself for the wrath of the Hunter, when nothing happened the Smoker opened his eye to see the Hunter with a sly smirk on his face.

"Wha'?" the Smoker asked. The Hunter quickly yanked on the Smoker's tongue.

"'Oly shi'!" the Smoker yelled as he fell forward, hitting the ground face first. He heard the Hunter cackling and he felt his face turn hot.

"S'upi'… Hun'er…" he groaned. He quickly scurried to his feet and glared at the Hunter.

"I ha'e you…" he said as he coiled his tongue back in his mouth. He heard the jockey laughing and laughing from around the corner and he quickly ran back to him.

"I hate you too..." he said to the Jockey, the Hunter still laughing from around the corner.

"Smoker… fail…" The Jockey said between laughs.

**---xxxxx---**

**There's the Smoker's try… as requested by Syrix5310… thanks for the review… and ignore the typo in the name of the story xD**

**And if you didn't notice it until now… shhhhh…**


	3. Charger's Attempt

The Jockey laughed rudely as the Smoker reviewed how _his _plan went.

"Oh, god," the Spitter said trying to catch her breath after all her laughter had ran away with it.

"Shut up," the Smoker snapped.

"I'm… sorry," she said between breaths. She fell back on the floor, holding her stomach.

"That's just too awesome!"

"Oh, be quiet!" the Smoker shot. "I don't see anyone else doing anything!"

The Jockey stopped laughing abruptly and looked up.

"Hey… he's right…" he said finally. The Spitter rolled her eyes.

"Well who's up for plan C?" she asked with enthusiastic sarcasm. The Charger shot his good arm in the air.

"Oh, oh, pick me! Pick me!"

The Spitter opened her mouth to say something before…

"I SAID PICK ME!"

"OKAY!"

The Charger smiled and put his hand down, closing his wide smile and just smiling normally.

"What's your idea?" the Spitter asked.

"I'm going to keep talking and talking and stuff and flail around my bad arm and 'accidently' keep slapping him with it," Charger explained. "He's either going to yell at me to shut up or stop hitting him,"

"Wow, great idea!" the Spitter said with a wide smile. Her happy smiled turned into a devious and sly one.

"Go get that Hunter..."

"Roger!" the Charger said, standing up and saluting the Spitter.

"Maybe… if we just ask him kindly… he'll…"

"No, it won't work," the Charger interrupted the Witch. "Trust me…" he added. The Smoker and Jockey stood up.

"We're coming to watch," they explained.

"Coming to watch me OWN?" the Charger questioned with a smile on his face.

"Only if you're talking about GETTING owned… then… sure, why not?" the Smoker countered with a smile of his own.

The Charger rolled his eyes and sighed. "Let's just go…"

**---xxxxx---**

I wonder who's going to try to make me talk this time… the Hunter thought. Jeez, and it's so hot out here… he looked down at his open sweater, thinking about taking off the heat consuming fabric but changing his mind after remembering what had happened with the Smoker. He shuddered at the thought and kept strolling along the side of the parade float with his common infected buddies.

"At least _they _don't bother me constantly…" he whispered to himself.

**---xxxxx---**

"There he is…" the Jockey whispered. The Charger nodded.

"Ready to prove us wrong?" the Smoker whispered to him, spying on the special infected from around the corner.

"Not really…" the Charger replied.

"Good," the Smoker said, pushing the Charger out into the open.

"Hey!" the Charger yelled. The Hunter looked up at the Charger.

Oh great… God only _knows_ what his plan is… the Hunter thought.

"Hi… Hunter…" the Charger said uncomfortably. The Hunter stood up at his full length and stared the Charger from under his hood. He looked down at his bare chest, remembering the lingering tongue of the Smoker. He shivered and quickly did his sweater up.

"Oh, please," the Charger said. The Hunter just rolled his eyes, the urge to ask him what the fuck he wanted strong, but the stubborn urge to not give into them even stronger.

The Charger looked back at the Jockey and Smoker who quickly ushered for him to put his plan in action. He sighed and looked at the Hunter.

"So, Hunter…" he said. The Hunter tilted his head to the side and giving off a curious growl, letting the Charger know he had his attention.

"How's it going…?"

The Hunter just shrugged and went back to slouching. The Charger walked closer to the Hunter, getting in his personal space and looking down at him.

"So… uhhh…"

Damnit! The Charger thought. I didn't think about what to talk about!

The Hunter leaned further away from the Charger, but not moving his legs, just staring with a puzzled and uncertain look. The Hunter smirked his usual smirk when he knew his friends couldn't persuade him into doing something. The Charger narrowed his eyes.

I won't let him win! The Charger thought stubbornly.

"Hmmm…" the Charger hummed thoughtfully.

I got it!

"So, Hunter, what do you think about the survivors?" the Charger asked. The Hunter tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I think they're stupid, well of course I do, they're the _survivors_,"

The Hunter just looked at the Charger with a glance that asked him what he was doing.

The Charger gasped and looked at the Hunter. "You don't like the survivors, do you!?" he quickly brought his arm up to his mouth and looked at the Hunter.

"How could you!?" he quickly turned around, loosening his arm and feeling his limp arm drag across the Hunter's face firmly. He heard the Hunter yelp and felt a smirk wipe across his face. He quickly erased his smirk and replaced it with a frown.

"It's okay, Hunter, maybe if you would just _tell _me that you don't like the survivors,"

The Hunter narrowed his eyes and growled. He stepped back to escape the Charger's arm. The Charger just took another step towards the Hunter.

"It's fine, you don't have to," the Charger said, knowing that the Hunter wouldn't give in.

"Look what I can do!" he exclaimed suddenly. He spun around and his bad arm hit the Hunter in the face each time he spun. The Hunter shrieked and he jumped back. Oh, my, god, the Hunter thought.

**---xxxxx---**

"How's it going?" the Jockey whispered.

"The Hunter looks pretty annoyed…" the Smoker replied, watching the two from around the corner.

"Did the Hunter talk yet!?" the Jockey asked quietly but excitedly.

"No, calm down!" the Smoker snapped in a hush tone.

The Jockey's shoulders slumped and he crossed his arms. "Fine…"

**---xxxxx---**

"And then the guy said, "aren't you glad I didn't say bananas!?"" the Charger said with some fake laughter. The Hunter had his hands clamped over his ears and an irritated look on his face. The Charger smirked inwardly, knowing that the Hunter was losing.

"Hey, Hunter! I got a great song for you! The Charger said excitedly. "I like chicken, I like liver, meow-mix, meow-mix, please deliver!" the Charger sung, waving his arms around and often whipping the Hunter somewhere with his bad arm.

"I hate you…" the Hunter muttered silently. Good thing the Charger was being loud, or he would have heard the Hunter.

"Oh, wanna hear another song!?"

The Hunter groaned and pushed harder on his ears.

"I know of a place, where you never get harmed, a magical place, with magical charms!" the Charger began, quoting spongebob.

"Indoors, indoors, IIIIIINDOOOOOOOORS!" he finished, hitting the last note in a high pitched, fluctuating voice.

The Hunter screeched and curled into a ball on the cement beneath him.

"I love Spongebob, I watch it all the time, who couldn't like that little sponge!?" The Charger added, whipping the Hunter on the back.

"SH--" The Hunter started but quickly slapping his hands over his mouth.

"What was that?" the Charger asked with a sly smirk. "Sounded like you were going to say… 'shut up',"

The Hunter growled and got in his 'I keel you' position.

"Hey… what are you—OH GOD!"

**---xxxxx---**

"What's going on!?" the Jockey asked.

"Never mind…" the Smoker said, his face white as a sheet and his eyes wide. The Jockey listened closely, but all he could hear was the growling Hunter and the rather girly screams of the Charger.

"Charger fail?"

**---xxxxx---**

**There's the Charger's attempt… :D**

**I really enjoyed writing it… :3… **

**But I have two questions…**

**Whose attempt would you like to read next?**

**Should I make an attempt for the Tank?**

**Thank you for reading :D**

**A special thanks to my sister and boyfriend for ideas.**

**Thank you, you guys :D**


	4. Boomer's Attempt

"Epic… Charger… fail…" the Spitter said in disbelief.

"S'ut u'," the Charger said in a slurred voice. (he said shut up)

"It's just…" the Spitter said, trying to explain but getting caught up in some giggles.

"It's… just…" she said, doing her best to hold her laughter back. The Charger rolled his eyes and went to cross his arms.

"You can't cross your arms…" the Smoker said with a smile.

"Oh yeah…" the Charger said with the unfortunate realization he couldn't

"Here… let me help…" the Boomer said kindly.

"HE STUFFED YOUR BAD ARM IN YOUR MOUTH!" the Jockey exclaimed, laughing uncontrollably.

"S'UT U'!" the Charger yelled as the Boomer pulled the Charger's limp arm out of his mouth.

"I almost had him too!" the Charger explained. "He almost said shut up…"

"Well… wait… does that count?" the Smoker asked, looking at the Spitter who appeared to be the rules and regulations master.

"Well, what did he say?" the Spitter asked, looking at her long nails.

"He said "sh"," the Charger replied.

"Oh, no, it has to be a full word, or else this would be too easy…" the Spitter informed them.

"Oh… okay…" the Smoker said, nodding.

"That's not fair…" the Charger said as he crossed his arms.

"Too bad," the Spitter said, obviously not caring. "Well, who wants to take on plan D?"

Everyone looked around for someone to raise their hand that wasn't the Jockey, Smoker, or Charger, who had already had their share of failure.

"Why don't we just ask--"

"Witch, that won't work!" the Smoker barked. "So stop asking!"

The Witch stared at the Smoker but quickly went back to crying, louder than usual.

"Way to go, Smoker…" the Jockey mumbled.

"Whatever…" the Smoker said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey… ya know, the Smoker shares a close resemblance to one of the survivors…" the Spitter said, surveying the Smoker.

"What?" the Smoker asked, narrowing his eye at her.

"Yeah… that one guy…" the Jockey agreed.

"Yeah… I think his name is… Nick?"

"Not even! Survivors are stupid!" the Smoker snapped.

"Well, whatever, you still remind me of him," the Spitter said. "Now, Boomer, why don't you go try to make Hunty talk?"

The Boomer's eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. "I can't!"

"Why not?" the Spitter asked, pouting.

"I… I can't" the Boomer insisted.

"Oh come on no one said you had to be mean about it," the Jockey said persuasively.

"Yeah… but" the Boomer gulped.

"Pleeeeease?" the Spitter asked, giving the Boomer her best puppy dog face.

"Okay…" the Boomer gave in "but what do I do?"

"Hmmm…" the Charger hummed.

"Why don't you pretend to feel sick?" the Smoker asked. "You're sick all the time, aren't you?"

"Not necessarily…" the Boomer said.

"Still…" the Smoker said.

"How is that going to get Hunter to talk?" the Spitter asked with a look on her face that implied the Smoker was stupid.

"Well… uhhhh… whenever the Boomer's sick… he needs to throw up, right?" the Smoker asked.

"Yeah…" the Spitter said, motioning for Smoker to continue.

"So, the Hunter will get grossed out and the Boomer could puke on him and… the Hunter will say _something_ right?" the Smoker explained.

"You're right!" the Spitter said with glee.

"Aren't I always?" the Smoker asked.

"No…" the Spitter replied.

"Hey!"

"WHAT!?"

"… jerk…"

"Okay, Boomer, go throw up on Hunter like he were that big toilet bowl in the sky," the Spitter urged.

"… what?" the Boomer asked quizzically.

"Just go puke on him!"

"Okay, okay…"

The Boomer stood up along with the Jockey, Smoker, and Charger.

"We're coming to watch," the Jockey said with a smile.

"Okay…" the Boomer agreed reluctantly.

**---xxxxx---**

I am so sick of my 'friends' trying to make me talk, the Hunter thought tiresomely. Honestly, what's there to get out of making me talk?

"Oh god… it's so hot out here…" the Hunter groaned, feeling the energy stealing heat beat down on him mercilessly. He fell down on his hands and knees, looking up into the sky.

"Water… need… water…" he uttered dramatically. He heard the noise of a gurgling Boomer and he quickly perked up. He narrowed his eyes and looked around, hoping that the bloated infected didn't hear or see any of his desperation for a cold drink.

He stood up and brushed himself off, waiting for the Boomer to take his turn to fail in epic proportions.

The hooded infected watched as the Boomer toddled around the corner and waved slowly. The hunter raised an eyebrow and waved back, and hen the Boomer realized he meant no harm, he waddled closer to him.

"Hi… Hunter," he greeted in an ill voice.

The Hunter waved and got down on his hands and legs (not knees… feet), looking up at the Boomer curiously.

"Hunter, why don't you ever talk?"

**---xxxxx---**

"What's he doing!?" the Smoker whispered. "He's actually asking him!?"

"What's going on?" the Charger mumbled quietly.

"The Boomer is asking the Hunter why he never talks," the Smoker replied.

"Why?"

"I don't know!"

**---xxxxx---**

The Hunter shrugged and stood up, knowing now that he didn't have to hurt the Boomer in any way what so ever.

"Okay…" the Boomer replied.

"Hunter… I don't feel good…" he complained.

Don't you always not feel good? The Hunter thought.

"I feel…. Really, really sick…" he whined, holding his stomach.

The Hunter shrugged.

"Can you tell me it'll be okay?"

The Hunter looked up at him, finally understanding that this was the Boomer's plan to make him talk. And he just thought that he was seriously not feeling well.

Hunter closed his eyes and shook his head stubbornly.

"Pleeeeease?"

The Hunter shook his head more vigorously and turned around, folding his arms across his chest.

"Hunter!" Boomer whined.

Abruptly, Boomer felt a growing feeling in his stomach, like he had to throw up. No, I don't wanna puke on him; my puke attracts the hordes… the Boomer thought.

The Boomer moaned as he felt the feeling worsen.

"Hunter… I really don't feel good…" he groaned.

The Hunter shook his head and ignored the Boomer for the sake of his very much intact sanity.

"Huuuunteeeeer," the Boomer groaned. "I'm going to puke on you,"

Hunter turned around and saw the Boomer clutching his bloated stomach.

"I'm serious…"

The Hunter looked at the Boomer in disgust and backed up a few steps.

"I'm going to—bleeeeeh" the Boomer said, being interrupted by his vomit spewing out of his mouth uncontrollably. He watched the vomit land on the Hunter as he gagged and flicked his arms and bits of puke flew off his sweater.

"Sorry…" the Boomer said quietly. The Hunter growled and got in his 'I keel you' position, ready to jump on the Boomer and readjust his face.

"I'M SORRY!" the Boomer wailed, tears flying out of his eyes. "I didn't mean to!"

The Hunter stood up, looking at him curiously.

**---xxxxx---**

"What happened?" the Jockey asked.

"Uhh… Boomer just put plan into action," Charger replied.

"Now what's going on? Did he talk?"

"No… the Boomer's crying…" the Smoker answered.

**---xxxxx---**

"I'm sorry, Hunter, I'm sorry!" the Boomer whimpered. "I didn't mean to, please don't hurt me!"

The Hunter raised an eyebrow and looked at him. He pursed his lips and uncertainly placed a hand on the Boomer's back.

"I'M SORRY!" the Boomer wailed. "WAAAAAAAAH!" he hugged the Hunter and squeezed him tightly to his chest.

"SO SORRY!"

The Hunter yelped as he felt every inch of his body being squeezed to death by the emotional Boomer.

"STO--" the Hunter almost yelled but got cut off by the Boomer's hug of death.

The Boomer quickly stopped squeezing him and looked at him, still holding him.

"What?" he sniffed.

The Hunter's eyes went wide and he shook his head.

"You were going to say something!" the Boomer accused.

The Hunter shook his head and tried desperately to get away from the Boomer. Help me… he thought helplessly.

"Don't go!" the Boomer said, gripping more tightly on the Hunter. "You have to finish your sentence…"

The Hunter sighed and let loose, letting the Boomer hold him up, his body becoming limp, as if he were letting sleep take him away. The Hunter snickered and quickly dug his teeth into the Boomer's arm.

"Ow!" the Boomer yelled as he let go of the Hunter. "Hey! Bad boy, you don't bite!"

The Hunter snickered and quickly jumped out of the Boomer's range of grasp. He jumped up on a rooftop and sat there, letting the breeze wash over him.

"Oh well…" the Boomer said, sighing and returning to his friends around the corner.

**---xxxxx---**

"How'd it go?" the Jockey asked.

"He almost said stop… but he only said sto…" the Boomer explained. "And he bit me…"

"Well, at least all you got away with as a bite mark…" the Smoker said, crossing his arms.

"Yeah…" the Charger input.

"Boomer fail, not an epic Boomer fail, but still a Boomer fail,"

**---xxxxx---**

**There you guys go… :3… Sorry if it wasn't as funny, I didn't know what to do x.x… lol**

**So, whose do you wanna see next? :3**

**Remember, ignore typos I didn't notice**

**:3**


	5. Tank's Attempt

"Awww… did mean, old Hunter hurt you?" Spitter asked, babying the Boomer as if he were a small child and not a fully grown, and rather large, special infected.

The Boomer nodded and held up his bloated wrist where a small indent resided from his episode with the Hunter.

"Wow, surprised he didn't make you go 'pop'," the Smoker said, giving an unsatisfied frown that the Boomer's… or rather _his_ plan didn't go as expected.

"Well, moving right along!" the Spitter encouraged. "Who wants to tackle the Hunter next?"

"Wait, wait, wait, something's wrong here," the Smoker said as he crossed his thin arms across his chest.

"And what might that be?" the Spitter queried.

"Well…" the Smoker started. "you have been bossing us around stuff, but haven't done anything yourself."

"So?" the Spitter asked, crossing her own stick-like arms and closing her eyes, the fact that she didn't care completely evident to everyone but the naive Boomer.

"So…" the Smoker nagged.

"What?"

"Oh my God… I mean that you should be doing some work here too! You're the one who started all this, throw in your share!"

"Uhhh… I can't…" the Spitter admitted.

"Why not?"

"I don't have an idea yet…"

"Well, someone else can go first, but whom? There's no one left to go,"

"Whom?"

"Shuddup!"

"Tank can go…"

"Taaaaaank,"

"How?! He doesn't even talk himself!"

"Well, he'll think of something…"

"Taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaank!"

"Be quiet!"

"I hate these stupid dialog things… you can never tell who's talking…"

"Heh, Smoker sucks ass!"

"Who said that!?

"See?"

The Smoker gave an exasperated groan.

"Tank!" he called. The ground shook aggressively as the Tank roared into the room.

"Taaaaaaank," he grunted in a low voice.

"See, he talks!" the Spitter said.

"He only ever says his own name…" the Smoker said, looking up at the much, much, more massive infected, a little in fear and a little in awe.

"Taaaaaaaaaaaaank," the Tank yelled as he pounded his giant fists on the ground.

"Whoa there, big guy," the Spitter said, taking hold of the Tank's bicep. "If you punch too hard, you might break the floor,"

"Tank…" the Tank said in a saddened tone, looking down at the floor.

"Awww… it's okay," the Spitter reassured.

The Tank looked up and smiled wildely.

"Tank!" he yelled with joy.

"Tanky want a treat, Tanky want a treat?" the Spitter asked like the Tank were her most precious pet in the world.

"Tank!" the Tank shouted as he nodded quickly.

"Well too bad," the Spitter said as her mood sharply changed into a rude one.

"But guess what!" the Jockey said, jumping right up to the Tank's side as he looked down and sniffed.

"Tank?" the Tank asked, glancing at the Jockey.

"You get to go see Hunter!" the Jockey announced grandly to the towering Tank.

"Tank!?" the Tank shouted happily as he jumped up and waved his arms wildly.

The Jockey stepped back and nodded slowly, unsure of whether or not the infected would break down the floor boards with his undefined strength.

"Okay, Smoker, Charger, Boomer, and I, are going to come and watch you, okay? Our goal…. Your goal is to try to make the Hunter talk to you, okay?" the Jockey said slowly.

The Tank nodded eagerly and set foot out the door, dashing madly down the stairs and bursting through the front door like he were an over sized dog fetching a much smaller stick, only this stick wore a hoodie, and this stick could talk.

**---xxxxx---**

"I think I'm going to die now…" the Hunter said to himself, feeling the intense heat rays shine down on him immensely.

"Can zombies have heat stroke?" he questioned, rising to a seated position and looking around in curiosity.

"Can… zombies have heat stroke?" he repeated, fearing that the correct answer to that question was in fact a yes.

"Well… if I do have heat stroke… what will happen to me?" the Hunter's eyes grew wide and he looked around, in a panic, he jumped to his feet and leaped under the shade of a tree.

"Maybe I should just take my sweater off or something…" he contemplated, visual thoughts of his friends seeing him half naked, he instantly shut the thought down and sighed.

"Why do _I _have to be the one in the freaking…" Hunter's voice trailed off as he felt the ground rumble. The rumbling became more vicious as the, what undoubtedly was a Tank, drew closer to the Hunter, closing the distance between the two rapidly.

"What the--" the Hunter lost his footing and fell on his bottom, wincing as he landed quite roughly.

"Ow…" he muttered.

The ground shook, complaining to the Hunter about the giant running on it brutally. The Hunter patted the ground.

"There, there," he comforted. "You're on your way…"

The Tank suddenly appeared around the corner, his fists acting as little crutches as he ran. The Hunter felt the ground protest as it was forced to endure all of the Tank's weight.

"Poor ground…" the Hunter whispered in sympathy for the cold ground. It didn't ask to be jumped on by a beast with a ridiculously small head in comparison to his ridiculously large body.

"Taaaaank!" the Tank yelled happily as he all too quickly approached the Hunter.

The Hunter's jaw dropped and he spun around, assuming his pounce position, just getting ready to leap when he felt the enormous hands of the Tank wrap around his waist.

Damnit…

"Taaaaaank!" the Tank shouted joyously as he looked at his friend.

The Hunter tried to growl at the Tank but the hand squeezing all his internal organs together wasn't helping the situation. The Hunter yelped desperately.

"Taaaaank!" the Tank repeated as he had before, and before, and before in the same happy tone.

Hunter remembered back when the Boomer had done this to him, and how had managed to break away from the infected's vice grip on him. He quickly chomped down on the Tank's finger and the Tank stopped jumping for joy and looked at him.

"Tank?" he asked, not releasing his grip on the smaller, hooded inected.

"Tank!" the Tank accused as he started sniffling and wailing.

**---xxxxx---**

The four special infected who had already had a go at making the Hunter talk stared in surprise and sympathy for the smothered Hunter.

"Should… should we go… help him, or something?" the Jockey asked, gaping at the sight of the bawling Tank and what seemed to be a lifeless Hunter.

"Yeah… doesn't this seem just a little cruel?" the Charger asked, gazing in fear.

"Nah, the Hunter'll be fine, he's probably just playing dead… he does share a close resemblance to a dog, you know,"

**---xxxxx---**

"Tank…?" the Tank asked, looking at the Hunter whose body was drooped over his hand. The Tank shook his hand and the Hunter shook with it.

"Tank!?" the Tank yelled, panicking.

"Tank, Tank, Tank!" he shouted over and over, frightened that he had killed his friend.

The Tank got on his knees and looked up at the sky, holding fists into the air, a seemingly dead Hunter hanging out of one of them motionlessly.

"Taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaank!" the Tank screamed to the heavens. "!"

He sniffed and placed the what he thought to be a dead Hunter on the ground and tended to it carefully.

"Tank…" he sniffled. "Me… sowwy…"

**---xxxxx---**

"Whoa, did you see that!?" the Boomer asked with a happy grin on his face.

"Yeah, the Tank just said something other than his name!" the Charger said, smiling with the Boomer.

"Finally that selfish bastard has stopped yelling out his own name!" the Smoker said, joining his friends in a happy grin.

"Isn't that kinda bad…?" the Jockey asked, looking at the two ahead of them.

"How?" the Boomer asked.

"Because… all this time we've been trying to get the Hunter to talk… and he made the Tank say something other than his name in like… five minutes…"

The Smoker stopped smiling and narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Hey! He's right!" the Charger said in disbelief.

The Smoker slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand and sighed heavily.

I hate that Hunter sometimes…

**---xxxxx---**

The Hunter snickered, eavesdropping on the other four's conversation.

"Tank is sowwy…" the Tank apologized, not taking note of the Hunter's triumphant snicker.

The Hunter quickly jumped up and crouched down, and all before the Tank had time to realize the Hunter wasn't dead and that he was in fact alive and that the Hunter was, _in fact_, wearing a _black_ hoodie and not a pink one, the Hunter was on an unreachable roof top with his usual smirk cast upon his face.

The Tank stared up in disbelief.

"How you get up there!?" the Tank asked in astonishment.

The Hunter stuck his tongue out, resting his hands behind his head and leaning back in a relaxed manner.

**---xxxxx---**

"That little fucker!" the Smoker barked as he looked at the Hunter now safely up on his roof top.

"Whoa, potty mouth!" the Jockey said, smacking the Smoker slightly.

"Be quiet!" the Smoker hissed.

"We now know… we face an enemy…" the Charger said, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Screw that!" the Smoker snapped, taking a step forward and getting his tongue ready for some severe ass whooping.

**---xxxxx---**

The Hunter snickered and chuckled as he watched the Tank down on the ground.

Wow… they really have to try harder than this…

The Hunter suddenly felt something wet and cold wrap around an exposed part of his arm and he hissed at it coldly.

Smoker… that little son of a—

**---xxxxx---**

"Ha, got him!" the Smoker smiled, starting to reel his tongue back into his mouth.

"Ow!" he howled as his tongue was abruptly bit in two.

"That ass, he bit my tongue!"

"Wait… that means… SECOND HAND KISS!" the Jockey said, pointing at the Smoker.

"As if!" the Smoker said, denying it all.

"Yeah, your tongue has been inside his mouth!"

"EEEEEEEEEW!"

The Smoker quickly stuck his tongue out and tried wiping it off with his hands, only drying out the muscle. He slurped his tongue back in his mouth and made tight fists.

"I hate that damn Hunter sometimes…"

**---xxxxx---**

"Tank is sowwy! Hunter come back down?" the Tank asked, flailing his arm at the Hunter.

The Hunter unraveled the Smoker's now limp tongue from around his wrist and chucked it carelessly off the side of the building, shaking his head down at the Tank. The tongue landed with a small 'plop'.

Awww… poor ground… now it's being licked…

The Tank sniffled and wiped at his eye.

"WHY HUNTER HAVE TO BE SO MEAN!?" he cried, running away just as fast, If not faster, than he had arrived.

The Hunter did feel bad for hurting the sensitive Tank's feelings, but hey, he wasn't about to give into them.

**---xxxxx---**

"It's okay… surely the Spitter will get him, I bet she has an awesome plan up her sleeve!" the Boomer said, optimistic as usual.

"Yeah… sure…" the Smoker said, rolling his eyes and starting on the journey back to wherever the Spitter was.

"Tank fail…"

"Shut up with all your damn fails!"

"Hey, they're not _my_ fails!"

**---xxxxx---**

**Ha… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—no….**

**Laugh out loud =/**

**THAT TANKY'S TRY!**

**I just hope it's as enjoyable to read as it was to write… :3**


	6. Spitter's Attempt

**Before I start, I would like to thank Crystal14 for a wonderful idea… :3**

**The idea isn't in this chapter thought… next one… I just wanted to tell you because the idea is awesome :D**

**And the Commander of the Rabbids… who has given me multiple reviews… as well as Crystal14… thanks guys :3… and anyone else whose name I did not memorize, thanks everyone for all the good reviews :3**

**---xxxxx---**

"Man, and I thought Tanky would get him," the Spitter pouted.

'Well, you thought wrong, that little bit—HUNTER OWNED US!" the Smoker fumed.

"OH CALM DOWN!" the Spitter snapped. "I've formulated a plan to take this mother fucker down!" she pounded her fist on the floor beneath her.

"This is getting violent…" the Jockey whispered to the Charger.

The Charger nodded in silent agreement. The Charger stood up, his hand on placed on the left side of his chest as if her were saluting the flag.

"I vow," he began, "to take this son of a bitch down," he said, making it known he meant business.

The Smoker did a hard face palm and stared up at him.

"You already had your turn," he whined irritably. "Let someone else go…!"

"Okay…" the Charger said. "Then… I vow… to _watch _someone take this son of a bitch down. Happy?" he asked, peering down at the Smoker who shook his head stiffly.

"Anyways, what's your plan, Spitter?" the Jockey asked calmly, seeming to be the only person who wasn't going insane over this.

"TO STAB HIM IN THE BACK!" the Spitter declared.

"Easy there… we want him alive…" the Jockey said, trying to calm everyone down, all thought I appeared to be a futile attempt, much like every attempt everyone threw at the Hunter.

"Oh yeah…" the Spitter murmured.

**---xxxxx---**

The Hunter swallowed as he listened to the conversation happening in the room behind the very door he was leaning against.

"Are… they going to kill me?" he whispered. He whimpered and quickly cupped his hands over his mouth, continuing on his eavesdropping.

"BUT I WANNA THROTLE HIM!" he heard the Smoker roar. His eyes widened and he quickly took off downstairs.

"My friends are trying to kill me!" he whispered urgently.

He pushed through the front door, almost plowing into it, if it weren't wide open. He instantly felt the hot, dry air envelope him and he slowed down.

"Jesus…" he panted.

**---xxxxx---**

"No killing…" the Jockey dismissed.

"Fine…" the Spitter said reluctantly.

"Anyways, what's your plan?"

"Okay… so uhhhh… I'mma just spit on him…"

"Is that all you got!?"

"SHUT UP!"

"Bet you five bucks Hunter rips her to shreds…"

"Yeah, well, bet you five bucks the Smoker dies RIGHT NOW,"

"WHAT!?"

"Kidding!"

"AGAIN WITH THESE DAMN DIALOG THINGIES! AHHHHHHHHHH!"

"I want to know who's talking…"

"Who said that?"

"Me,"

"Well, no duh! But who's 'me'?"

"I am,"

"No, I am,"

"Aren't we all me?"

"NU UH!"

"AHHHHH!"

"I am, Smoker!"

"Oh…"

"Like any one cares…"

"HEY! HUSH FOR A MOMENT! FOR EFF'S SAKE YOU GOD DAMNS IDIOTS!"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"… ass hole…"

"Small buttons,"

"I like big butts--"

"I hate this…"

**---xxxxx---**

"Okay, after we finally got the author to tell us who's talking… I'mma go put my super, awesome, mega, astonishing, phenomenal, ultra--"

"ULTRA MOO!" the Charger roared with a fist.

"Stop showing off!" the Smoker snapped, at the Spitter.

"Sorry…" the Spitter said in a small voice. "ANYWAYS! Time to go put my plan into action!"

"Okay… as usual… the people who had formerly tried to get the Hunter to talk and fail will come and watch, except Tank who is busy beating random things to vent his emotions,"

**---xxxxx---**

"TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK!" the Tank roared.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! TANK! SHOT IT!" Rochelle screamed.

"LIGHT THAT MOTHER UP!" Ellis yelled.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait… wait…" Nick said. "Wait…"

Everyone, including the Tank paused, the Tank's fist suspending in mid air, hovering just in front of Coach's face. Coach pursed his lips and slowly moved his face out of the way of the bulky fist threatening to knock him out cold.

"The Tank can talk?"

"!"

**---xxxxx---**

"Okay, I'm going to go now, followed by you NOOBS!"

"Oh please… I doubt _spitting _will make him yell out some sort of word that isn't 'rawr'," the Smoker scoffed.

"You never know,"

"WHY DON'T WE JUST ASK HIM NICELY?! AND DON'T FUCKING INTERRUPT THIS TIME YOU FUCKING LUNG CANCER RIDEEN ASS!" the Witch raged.

Everyone stared wide eyed at the Witch who was crippling over in livid anger.

"Calm down…" the Jockey said, soothing the Witch.

"I just don't think asking nicely will work! Like seriously… "Hi, Hunter, may you please talk?" "…","

The Witch started sobbing uncontrollably and she sat on the floor.

"you're… such an ass…" she wept

The Smoker shrugged, urging the Spitter out the door.

"Let's get a move on… I'm anxious to see you fail,"

**---xxxxxx---**

"If… Tank is fighting the survivors… he'll kill them right?" the Hunter asked himself, feeling woozy. He groaned.

"I guess they'll have to restart the chapter…" He groaned. "Hope the difficulty is on Expert… or at least Advanced… and I hope the survivors are dumbasses…"

The Hunter laid down on the dirty cement, feeling his world spin.

"I think… I'm going to pass out…" he mumbled, feeling nauseous and sick to his stomach. Next thing he knew, his world went black and he was asleep.

**---xxxxx---**

*Mean while*

"So, if the Tank can talk… does that mean all the other infected can talk?" Rochelle questioned curiously.

"Yeah, but survivors never give zombies chance to talk before emptying guns into us," Tank said sadly, sitting cross-legged in front of the four.

"Awww. We're sorry," Ellis said, uncertain is he was allowed to touch the Tank. He set a hand on the Tank's back; his skin was cold and rough.

"What the hell are we doing, talking to a _Tank_?" Nick asked in annoyance at the level of his friends stupidity.

**---xxxxx---**

"The is… is… he sleeping?" the Spitter asked, peering around the corner at the stirring Hunter.

"Heat stroke?" the Jockey guessed.

"Do zombies get heat stroke?" the Smoker asked, looking puzzled at his comrades.

"Yeah… we are humans after all…" the Charger replied.

"Okay… I'm going to do it…" the Spitter announced quietly, clearing her throat and hurdling a patch of acid at the sleeping Hunter. It bounced off the tree and landed on the Hunter's chest, the acid spreading all over the place.

"Won't this hurt him really badly?" the Smoker asked, listening to the hissing of the burning acid.

"Na-yeah…" the Spitter said.

"THEN WHAT THE FUCK!?" the Smoker yelled, watching as the Hunter sprang from his feet, howling loudly, trying desperately to get the make shift fire off his chest.

"Ha!" the Spitter triumphed.

"He still hasn't said anything yet…"

"Sea biscuit…"

"Not again…"

"Hi…" the Charger said.

"Yay!" the Jockey jumped joyously. He turned back to watching the Hunter dance around, franticly shaking the burning acid off him. He growled as he fumbled out of his sweater, revealing a fairly well built torso. He pointed a finger at the burning sweater.

WHAT! WHAT! SUCK IT! He thought.

"Sa-weet!" the Spitter hollered, watching as the Hunter jabbed his finger at the sweater, topless. He stopped punching the air with his finger and looked at the Spitter and narrowed his eyes.

"Uhhh… sorry…" the Spitter said nervously.

The Hunter crouched down.

"Well bye…"

"yeah, see ya…" everyone else said, quickly abandoning the Spitter with the outraged Hunter.

The Hunter let out a high screech before pouncing on the Spitter.

**---xxxxx---**

"Sucks to be her…" the Jockey said.

"Yeah… Spitter fail… knew she wouldn't win,"

**---xxxxx---**

*meanwhile*

"Way to go, Ellis, you dumbshit!" Nick yelled.

"Sorry, I didn't know touching him made him angry, I just wanted to try to comfort him," Ellis said in defense for himself.

"Well now we have to start over!" Nick shouted, grabbing a health kit off the table.

"Sorry…" Ellis mumbled.

"We were almost there, too!"

**---xxxxx---**

***giggle***

**I want to thank my sister Nariko-Kyoko… she has a fanfiction BTW… she helped me with the survivor thing… she had to idea of the survivors actually communicating with the Tank… and she watched out for any typos as I went, so please, thank her, too :D**


	7. Witch's Attempt

"Ha ha, Spitter failure is always the best kind of fail," the Smoker taunted.

"Actually... I think it'd be like... Charger... like... seeing this giant thing just rush by and completely miss you and slam into a wall would be funny," the Jockey smiled.

"I agree with Jockey..." Spitter approved. "And not just because he's not insulting me..."

"Suuuure..." the Smoker said sarcastically. "Anyways, there's no one left to go but Witch, and her idea sucks..."

"So what?" the Charger asked "Let her try her idea, that way we can all fail and all be equal again,"

"Were we ever equal?" Boomer asked sadly.

"No, I was always better than you all," the Smoker marked.

"Yeah, keep dreaming, Smokey..." Spitter remarked, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever..."

The Witch stood up and wiped her eyes with the back of her pasty white hand.

"I'm going to go ask him if he can talk to me..."

As if on cue, the door swung open and Hunter sat there, crouching on the floor with his worn out sweater. He crawled in, growling as he went and sat down with the others.

"Oh, look who it is," the Spitter stressed. "Come to apologize?"

The Hunter shook his head and snickered.

"Be quiet..." the Smoker said after a loud cough.

The Witch walked over to him and kneeled down beside him.

"Hunter?" the asked in a kind voice. "Will you please talk to me?"

Everyone watched closely as the Hunter seemed to take that question into careful and serious consideration. He hummed thoughtfully.

"Oh, don't tell me this plan is going to work!" the Smoker glowered.

The Hunter smirked and snickered.

"Please, Hunter?" Witch asked, looking under his hood at his snickering face.

Hunter shook his head and looked down at the Witch.

"Why not?" she questioned.

"Ha! Told you it wouldn't work! Smoker dominated.

"Well, if you put it that way," Hunter grinned.

Everyone's jaws dropped and they looked at the Hunter, except the Smoker who narrowed his eye and secretly stuck his middle finger at the Hunter who stuck his tongue out at the Smoker.

The Witch smiled widely and looked at everyone else. "Told you it'd work!"

"He's just doing that out of spite!" the Charger said.

"He's right," the Hunter admitted with a sly grin and a flash of his tongue.

"Well, at least _she_ asked me nicely! Instead of spitting, and licking, and choking, and squeezing, and more licking, and jumping on my back, and slapping! Honestly!" the Hunter directed a finger towards the Charger. "And I am not a fucking cat!" he yelled.

The Charger snickered and looked away with a content smile.

"And you," the Hunter said, moving his finger to the Smoker.

"Moi?" the Smoker asked.

"Yes, you, you jerk. Was it necessary to lick me!?"

"At least I didn't kiss you, or, something!" the Smoker spat.

"Well, were you at least annoyed?" the Spitter puzzled.

'Yes, beyond anyone's wildest ima—"

The door swung open.

"We're finally—what the hell?" Nick asked, peering down at all the infected seated amongst the floor.

The infected looked at the survivors, the survivors mirroring a glance at the infected.

"What the hell are the special infected doing in the safe house?" Coach questioned, revealing himself from behind Nick.

"Guess we got caught up in our game…" the Jockey whispered.

"Yeah…" Charger agreed.

"Get the fuck out," Nick commanded, stepping aside and pointing out of the door.

"Hey… you guys just got here… after already restarting… right?" the Smoker asked thoughtfully.

Nick nodded slowly and gestured his head towards the door.

"Perfect…" the Smoker said devilishly.

**---xxxxx---**

"I can not believe, we have to start over, _again_," Rochelle groaned.

"Yeah, those damn infected jus' freakin' jumped us!" Ellis proclaimed. "Well, guess we'll jus' have ta go all the way back over there, righ'?"

"Yeah, I have an idea, too," Nick said, smiling slyly and picking up a Molotov.

"So, we throw the Molotov in there… and they catch fire?" Coach asked, staring at the Molotov.

"Yup, those bastards won't know what hit them," Nick snickered. "Dumb zombies…"

**---xxxxx---**

**That's it, lol, it was so fun to write :3… thanks for reviews and stuffz, :D**

**But, a question…**

**Do you want a chapter to show what happened to the special infected when the Survivors got back to the safe house?**

**Thanks, guyses and girlses :D**

**BTW, you now the typo drill… if you've read my other stories, if not… just ignore them =)**


	8. Up On A Roof Top

"Ha, those dumb survivors!" the Charger said, his face scrunched up in obnoxious laughter.

"They'll probably… no… they _will _be back," the Smoker cautioned. "So be careful."

"No problem, Smoker buddy," Charger said in a care free, not concealing his I-don't-give-a-damn tone.

"Well, I'm going to move out of the safe house, any one who's dumb enough…"

"Charger," the Spitter coughed.

"To stay… can stay, and die…"

"I won't die!" the Charger said, waving his arm at the Smoking one. "Those silly survivors can't handle my charge of awesomeness."

"What happens when your charger of awesomeness fails you and you charge off an edge or something?" the Jockey asked.

"Then I watch and laugh," the Smoker replied for the smaller infected.

"Well, then I'll find some place to spawn and do it again,"

"You mean charge off the edge again?" the Boomer asked, completely lost.

"No, charge at them again,"

"And miss and _then_ charge off the edge," the Smoker finished for him with a playful smirk.

"No one asked you!" the Charger snarled with crossed arms.

"Moi?" the Smoker asked, placing his hand on his chest.

"You're such a French wannabe!"

The Smoker just chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Whatever,"

The Hunter stood up and turned his back on the seven.

"Mezz isn't sticking around to die," he mumbled, taking his leave.

"Neither am I," the Smoker said, standing up and following the Hunter out the door.

"Adios, amigos," the Witch said, saluting the other five with two fingers and scurrying out the door.

The Spitter flew out the door quickly.

"Well, looks like it's just us…" the Jockey said after an uncomfortable silence. He scanned the room and only saw his Boomer friend, Tank friend, Charger friend, and imaginary friend, Bob.

"We could have taken them, if all of us had just stayed in here," the Charger said.

"Do you honestly think that survivors are that stupid, 'oh lookieme, I'mma survivor, I just walked into a safe house and saw eight special infected in there and me and my buddies died, let's go try again!'," the Jockey mocked with an added squeaky "heeheeheeheehee".

**---xxxxx---**

The Hunter perched on the roof of the safe house with Smoker Buddy, spying on the survivors as they walked cautiously up to the room, Molotov in hand.

"Sucks to be them…" he whispered to the infected beside him.

"Yup…" the Smoker agreed.

"Molotov coming!" Nick shouted as he threw the contained fire.

The fire instantly consumed the safe house and the four humans backed off, waiting for the flames to die down. He saw as a Jockey leapt out of the safe house.

"Ahhh! I'm on fire! Stop drop and roll, stop drop and roll!" he exclaimed, widely leaping around in attempts to put out the scorching flames.

"IT BURNS!" the Charger yelled as he charged to put out the flames, missing the survivors and falling off an edge into a vast body of water.

"Well, at least he's not on fire anymore," the Smoker optimized.

"He still fell of the edge," the Hunter laughed.

"Oh yeah, I said I would laugh, hahhahahaha, there,"

"Giggle…"

"Snicker…"

"Okay, seriousness!"

They watched as a flaming Tank of towering inferno ran out of the safe house, growling and yelling at the beings who had threw the pain on his body.

"Raaaaaaaaah!" he roared, pounding his fists on the ground, making it tremble violently.

The Jockey fell dead and the Boomer went 'pop' and all that was left was the Tank, who eventually fell down too.

"Ha, failure!" the Smoker said.

"Indeed…" the Hunter said quietly, watching the blue silhouette of the Jockey jump around, trying to find a nice spawn place.

The chaotic flames of the long forgotten Molotov finally burned away, opening the safe room to the four humans who quickly jumped into the room and slammed the door behind them, barricading it with whatever they could find.

"They finally made it…" the Hunter said with a yawn, lying down on the roof with his head on the Smoker's feet.

"Mhm…" the Smoker hummed awkwardly, staring down into the would be eyes of the Hunter.

"What?" the Hunter asked.

"Well… it's just, you're kind of acting gay…" the Smoker said looking away uncomfortably.

"No I'm not, I'm just lying down, I needed a pillow and your feet were conveniently there!" the Hunter explained.

"I can't stand up forever," the Smoker said.

"Well, sit down and I'll use your legs as a pillow or something," the Hunter offered.

"No, that's gay!" the Smoker said.

"Fine, I'll use this hard… cold roof… as my pillow, all alone, with nothing to protect my, but the burnt sweater that Spitter had ruined," the Hunter said in a sad voice, smirking fiendishly under the protection of his hood.

"Fine," the Smoker groaned, sitting down and letting the Hunter rest his head comfortably on his thigh.

"But don't tell anyone, and this isn't going to become a regular thing,"

The Hunter nodded.

"You know," he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"We should all jump the Survivors in the next chapter of the game…"

"Yeah, that'd be fun, now shut up and go to sleep,"

The Hunter growled lightly and fell asleep as the Smoker looked down at him, feeling an unusually warm sense of awkwardness.

And the next day, they all did jump the survivors, and from there on, the Hunter communicated on a regular basis with his infected friends, enjoying his simple life of senselessly ripping survivors to shreds.

THE END!

Smoker approves this story ;D *thumbs up*

**---xxxxx---**

**Implied yaoi, you saw it. I don't think I could never have a story without yaoi in it… it just… doesn't work for me… lol**

**That's the end of the story.**

**Thanks to all your reviews :3**

**BTW, I am working on a new story for Death Note; it has yaoi between L and Light with L playing the role of uke, of course. If you don't like Light being seme, then don't read.**Hun


	9. Alternate Win

The survivors opened the door to see all eight special infected, sitting on the floor in a circle as if performing a ritual of some sort.

"What the fuck?" Nick asked roughly. He looked at the sobbing witch and the prowling Hunter, the annoyed Smoker and the perverted Jockey.

"I am not a pervert!" the Jockey said.

"You hump our backs!" Rochelle said.

"So, that's what I'm programmed to do!" the Jockey exclaimed.

"Whatever, you're still a pervert," Rochelle said stubbornly crossing her arms.

"Meeeeh!" the Jockey moaned in annoyance.

"Moans mean sex…" the Spitter giggled.

"Be quiet…"

"Anyways, what the fuck are you doing in our safe house?" Nick asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"_Your_ safe house. We were here first," the Charger said.

"Well, we're supposed ta be in 'ere," Ellis added.

"So what?"

"So get out!" Nick snapped.

"Noooooo!" the Spitter whined. "Make Hunter talk and we'll get out!"

"Make Hunter talk?"

"Long story…"

"Fine," Nick said, looking through the scope of his snipe at the head of the Hunter.

"Talk, you dumb Hunter,"

"No!" the Hunter yelled.

Nick lowered his snipe. "Now get out,"

"DAMNIT!" the Hunter growled.

The Spitter laughed. "That was simple!"

"Survivor win," the Jockey said.

"Well, survivor _fail_,"

**---xxxxx---**

**Then the survivors have to restart because the infected all jumped them. That was the other way Hunter would have talked, with the same ending… I prefer the other one :3**

**But I liked writing both :D**

**Survivor Win**

**Witch Win**

**Which do you like? ._.**


End file.
